


wolves and girls, both have sharp teeth

by vinye



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Assassins In Love, F/F, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Red Room (Marvel), a morally questionable oc, natasha with the green eyes and pretty lies, so many references to other characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinye/pseuds/vinye
Summary: When they were young, it was Milyena and Natalia. Then Natalia died, so it became Milyena and Soldat. On occasion, it was Black Widow and the Winter Soldier. Finally, it ended at Mila, Bucky, and Natasha.





	1. July 13, 1936

“Name,” the woman behind the desk asked harshly, her eyes as cold as ice.

Milyena looked out the window. Through the blemished glass, she could see wooden poles shoved deep in the earth, linked together by dark silver barbed wire, all around the school building. This place resembles a prison more than a school, she thought. Quickly, she turned away.

“Milyena,” she answered, forcing her voice barely audible. She did not want to miss out on this learning experience, no matter how the boarding school looked. Appearances can be deceiving, she knew, and the orphanage was told this was a very prestigious academy. Any girl would be lucky to attend, they said, picking only Milyena. “Milyena Morozova.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you, Milyena.”

Milyena nodded. The woman’s smile was chilly, though she supposed it was supposed to be comforting. “Your welcome,” she trailed off, unsure of this woman’s name.

“Madam,” the woman introduced herself, before her smile suddenly fell from her lips. “Ivan,” she snapped to the middle-aged man at the back of the room, the one who brought her here from the orphanage, “take Milyena to her room.”

She brightened up at that. She’d never had her own room before. But as Ivan escorted her out and up some mahogany stairs, her backpack of belongings strung over his shoulders, she realised she probably never would have her own room, as the room she had been given was full of other girls, all of a similar age to her.

“Here is your bed,” Ivan said, indicating towards a bed complete with a blanket and a thin mattress. It looked uncomfortable, but Milyena smiled at it nonetheless. He soon turned and walked out the room, taking her backpack with him.

When she opened her mouth to call him back and explain the situation, one of the girls placed a hand on her arm, silencing her. 

“You won’t get it back,” a blonde girl explained, “and it’s better not to ask.”

Milyena nodded, as though she understood the consequences, but she did not. Something in the blonde’s eyes told it was serious, though, and so she dropped her question. It did not matter. She could just get new belongings. New belongings for a new life, it made sense.

“I’m Milyena,” she introduced herself politely, offering out her hand. Just like the adults at the orphanage greeted the possible parents.

The girl took her hand. “I’m Darya,” she said with a small smile, “but you can call me Dasha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: this idea has been rattling in my head for a while, so i thought i’d finally publish it! since there’s no black widow film, i’m basing nat’s experiences—and by association, mila’s experiences—in the red room on aou, agent carter, and the comics. since it’s my first story, i’d really appreciate feedback, thank you!


	2. January 27, 1937

Milyena did not know what she had previously expected of this academy, but it certainly did not live up to anything she could have ever imagined.

They began with ballet. She did not find it suspicious, though did find it peculiar. She assumed it was what all girls at prestigious schools learnt. High-class girls, with families and money and good surnames. It made her feel proud to be associated with such importance. There was even one girl who had the name “Romanova”, like the old royal family. Milyena asked her about it, but the girl insisted she was not nobility.

But then they stopped practising ballet and started using their learned agility and flexibility in other ways, such as kicking and flipping and avoiding things thrown at them. Ivan explained it was some special form of dance, designed especially for the girls at the academy, but Milyena thought it was more a mixture of combat and ballet. She never voiced her opinion, however. No one did. She did not yet know the reason why, but was certainly not going to be the one to first find out.

She could not quite pinpoint when they stopped ballet and started on only combat, but it happened, somewhere down the line, and on a cold day in January, Dasha was paired up with Anya. Well, her real name was Anna, but Dasha called her Anya because they were friends. Milyena was friends with Dasha, so Anya was a friend, too. That was how it worked, Anya explained.

Though Dasha very clearly struggled during the fight to begin with, it ended with her grasping Anya in a secure headlock. Milyena was worried about this change in regime, but was proud of her friend’s success, nonetheless.

Then Madam nodded. Dasha snapped Anya’s neck.

No one moved as Anya’s limp body fell to the ground. Her death was quick, at least, painless. But it was still death. And death was horrible. And sad. People were meant to cry about death, but Milyena did not cry.

At night, she sniffed and her eyes felt glossy, but her tears did not fall. _This is no place for high-class girls_ , she thought numbly, _high-class girls are worth more than a snap of the neck_. She realised why they had picked her out of all the other girls in the orphanage—she was not the smartest or the prettiest, though she was said to have an inviting smile. But they did not pick her for her smile, else they would not try so hard to wipe it away.

No, they picked her because she was an orphan, worthless and easily overlooked. Even that girl with the royal surname was worthless, at the end of the day. High-class girls were not made so cheap, their deaths would be questioned. But Milyena’s would not, nor would that Romanova girl’s. They would fade into obscurity, just like Anya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: so this scene may be familiar! i’m trying to incorporate elements of the comics and of agent carter, but chronologically, it’s just really hard. obviously, a few things will not make sense, but feel free to just ignore them!


	3. November 3, 1938

The first punch brushed by Milyena’s chin.

Successfully, she held back the urge to cry, though a small whimper did escape. Her face throbbed, and she could hear Madam’s voice in her head, ordering her to endure. She was so unused to pain, but nevertheless returned the blow to her opponent.

It was a weak hit, one that would have earned her the ire of Madam, had it not caused her opponent to cry out in pain. Valeriya let herself fall to the ground, thin arms wrapped around her stomach. Unsure of how to proceed, Milyena lowered her fists. 

They were instructed that weakness was not to be tolerated, but Valeriya looked so upset. Milyena could not bring herself to carry on attacking when her opponent had clearly given up. In the real world, she would have accepted this surrender. And besides, they had all only been here for just under two years. It was hardly enough time to lose their weakness and develop their strength.

Ivan, on the other hand, seemed to disagree with this conclusion. “Get up,” he demanded, voice sharp. Milyena wondered how she had fallen for the kind façade he had adopted at the orphanage. “Get up and fight, girl.”

He said ‘girl’ like one would say rodent, but Milyena knew all of the students were girls for a reason. Madam, who stood silent in the shadows, had always been more intimidating than Ivan. The blows may hurt, but the consequences of refusing to receive them would be much worse. Ivan was snappy and yelled a lot, but Madam was ruthlessly efficient.

Milyena looked up at Madam for guidance, but all the older woman did was give a stiff nod of dismissal. As she and the other girls departed from the room in an organised line, Milyena spared a glance at Valeriya.

This is all my fault, Milyena thought as she walked up the stairs to her room. Beside her, Dasha’s eyes glinted fiercely. She had grown more cold after Anya’s death, bordering on cruel.

“It is not your fault,” she said firmly as they all sat on their respective beds, “Valeriya is weak. You are strong. This is the way of the world.”

Milyena knew what she meant by that. Survival of the fittest. The strong do not defend the weak, but instead rid the world of them. She had heard multiple speeches with the same meaning. 

From her bed, Romanova spoke up. “I do not think that is the way of the world,” she said bravely. The green in her eyes was almost as intimidating as the blue in Madam’s.

“Do you?” Dasha practically snarled her response. Milyena did not believe Dasha truly thought that way, but instead used it to help herself recover from Anya’s death. But at times like this, she did not know, truly.

Romanova continued. “When we are strong, I think we should help the weaker people become strong, too,” she explained. “Everyone deserves a chance.”

“Is that why you snapped Eleonora’s neck last year?”

Romanova was visibly hurt by this comment, almost recoiling in retreat. Her mouth closed immediately and she backed away, lying on her bed in silence. Milyena remembered this. The girl, Romanova—her name was Natalia. She was on the same level as Dasha.

They were the only two girls who had directly someone killed yet. 

Dasha did not seem fazed by the effect her comment had. She offered Milyena a comforting smile, squeezed her hand, and walked off away to her bed.

Valeriya never came back up the stairs. At supper, her absence was noted, and it lead to a tense atmosphere. In her bed, Milyena hid under her covers, placed a pillow over her face, and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: thanks so much for the kudos-ing all those people who did! i honestly appreciate it so much, like seriously, i love you. thank you!


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